Christmas Cookies
by It Smells Like Cinnamon
Summary: Aelita and Ulrich bake cookies for Christmas...friendship fic.


**I know it's nowhere near Christmas, but I was really bored and just wrote this from my Mystical Jar of Fanfiction Ideas...and then I posted it. So...read and enjoy, I guess. R and R, my minions!**

"Ulrich!" The pink haired girl exclaims, cheerfully battling away the brunette's hand with her wooden spoon.

"What?" The brunette boy smiles back deviously, flicking a chocolate chip at her that had been swimming in the mess all over the counter.

"Get out of the cookie dough, that's what!" The girl continues to scoop small balls of dough onto the metal baking sheet, keeping a watchful eye on the boy dubbed Ulrich.

"Can't I have a little bite?" Ulrich coaxes, leaning over her shoulder. She giggles and flicks a pinch of flour into his face. Laughing, he good-naturedly wipes the white powder off his cheek and onto her sleeve.

"No, these are cookies for Santa." The pink-haired girl, Aelita, lectures him. He smiles at the childish reprimand. The girl, being new to the real world, had recently heard about the mythical man who delivers presents and had become crazed with the idea.

No one had the heart to tell the overly-excited girl that the jolly bearded man was nothing but fictional. Ulrich had never much been one to believe in Santa Claus; the thought of a creepy old man watching him day and night and breaking into his house had every year always kind of traumatized him.

"But Santa surely won't mind if I take just a little bit of his cookie dough away from him, right?" Ulrich tries, but Aelita will have none of it.

"Think of all the millions of girl and boys already putting out cookies. Don't you think he'll need a little help to finish _all_ of them?"

"He'll feed some to the magical reindeer, duh." Aelita slides the dough into the now beeping oven, while Ulrich checks the time on his watch for the millionth time.

"The others will be here soon." He warns Aelita. "We'd better finish these cookies before Jeremie sees the mess you've made on his dad's counters."

"Alright, then." Aelita uses a paper towel to wipe the dozens of broken eggshells and stray chocolate chips from failed attempts the two had first made on the dough into the trash can while the brunette rinses the dishes out in the sink.

"Can we check the halls now?" Aelita bounces forward on the balls of her feet; Ulrich raises a confused eyebrow.

"What?"

"You know, 'check the halls for brows and folly,'" She clarifies. Ulrich still looks puzzled.

"The _song._"

"Ohhh." Understanding dawns on the boy's face. He bursts out laughing. "Aelita, the lyrics are 'deck the halls with boughs of holly'."

She blushes. "Whatever. Can we decorate now?"

"Sure, but we only have a hour before the others show up."

The next 60 minutes are a blur of ornaments, a fake pine tree, red bows, wreaths, Santa statues and strings of festive lights that Ulrich spends most of the time cursing over and changing the stubborn bulbs.

"I think the cookies are cool enough, if you really need to eat one." Aelita calls from the kitchen. Ulrich sets down the stupid red velvet ribbon that _just won't stay straight_ and runs to call of a possible treat. Aelita gallantly hands him a cookie and he cracks up, surprised at just how terrible he really is at baking. The edges are blackened and crisped, and the middle is soupy and raw. He doesn't want to eat it, not with the odor it's producing, but the look on that poor girl's face is too hard to resist.

Aelita's eyes are wide and shiny. "I've never made cookies before; I'm glad you baked them for me!"

He smiles weakly, postponing the fateful bite. "No problem, Princess."

"How do they taste?" She peers insistently at the failed cookie that Ulrich is still holding. "Try it!"

"Wouldn't you rather have it?" He smiles with forced enthusiasm, holding it out to her.

"No, I'd rather let you try it; I don't want to be put on the naughty list for stealing Santa's cookies!"

She shoves it towards his mouth, and he hesitantly raises it to his lips, taking a tiny bite. Ulrich, not wanting to disappoint the excited girl, forces a wide smile, trying not to gag on the burnt flavor drowning his taste buds.

"Mmmm." His voice is painfully tight; he can't bring himself to swallow. "This is delicious." She joyfully claps her hands, beaming.

His face turns slightly green. "I'm going to run to the bathroom really quick, okay?"

"Okay!" She dazzles him with a chipper smile and waits until she can hear her poor friend retching before falling into a fit of silent giggles, doubling over and wiping tears from her eyes.

Really, she thought she was new to Earth, but she wasn't two days old; Odd had explained to her the second Jeremie had left the room that Santa was just a child's tale. And seriously, she _could _tell if a cookie was burnt or raw or not. She had made the dough, hadn't she?

Poor Ulrich, she giggled into her palm. He really is in for a Christmas surprise.


End file.
